


When All Is Said And Done

by james



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Deaf Clint Barton, First Time, Humor, M/M, Mild Angst, flying robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5474423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky is doing okay at fitting in, but he needs a little help.  And he needs Steve to leave him alone for five fucking seconds, Jesus.  </p><p>Rated Teen for Bucky's potty mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When All Is Said And Done

**Author's Note:**

  * For [27dragons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/gifts).



The first time Bucky went to Stark's workshop it was because Steve forced him. Not in the sense he'd physically dragged Bucky down there because Bucky's arm seriously needed attention, but in the sense that he'd looked real earnest and frowned all concerned whenever Bucky even tried to rub at his shoulder or move a joint to check it was okay. He'd made _that face_ and Bucky could have said no but then he'd have to deal with _that face_ for however long it took for Bucky to give in eventually anyway.

So he just gave in the first time and let Steve show him down to Stark's workshop. It really hadn't been too bad – Steve had hovered like a nervous nelly, but Bucky hadn't felt a thing and Stark had done a really amazing job with Bucky's arm. All the little burrs and rough spots were tended to right along with all the more complicated stuff and when it was done Stark gave him a packet of tools, cloths, and oils so he could do a bunch of the stuff himself if he wanted.

The second time Bucky went to Stark's workshop it was to get the fuck away from Steve before he belted the guy. He loved Steve, he really did, but ever since Bucky had let Steve bring him in he'd been right there, every second of every goddamn day, asking if there was anything Bucky needed or anything he wanted to do or not do and was he all right and was there something Steve could change about the entire fucking world to make things a little easier on Bucky.

He wanted so desperately to say "Yes, fucking go away for half an hour and let me breathe." But he'd actually said that once and Steve had looked like someone had ripped his heart right out of his chest. Of course he'd gone, willingly enough, but Bucky felt like he'd torn his other arm off and beaten a dozen puppies to death with it or something.

He'd heard the other Avengers joking about their best weapon being Steve's Captain America Is Disappointed In You face. He'd laughed at the time, but holy hell Steve had learned how to frown at you worse than any Jewish mother on the block. It was worse when you'd actually done something to be ashamed of, so when Bucky needed a break from Steve before he killed somebody, he waited until Wilson showed up to join them for lunch, then Bucky had suddenly remembered he'd wanted Stark to check his finger joint and he'd casually headed to the elevator and escaped to the basement. Wilson had done an excellent job of sitting on Steve – literally, Bucky was pretty sure. Steve had stayed put and had lunch with Wilson and Bucky had gotten to spend a good, solid hour sitting on a stool watching Stark work and listening to him talk to his robots.

 _Robots._ Bucky had wanted to ask if any of them could fly, but he mostly hadn't wanted to give Stark a reason to ask why the fuck Bucky was down there. Stark had apparently forgotten all about Bucky five seconds after he'd walked in and told him his arm was fine, then Stark had gone back to work on his holographic screens and possibly playing fetch with his robots and Bucky got to sit for an hour and nobody fucking bugged him.

Turned out Wilson appreciated having some time alone with Steve, so after that Wilson would text Bucky that he was going to ask Steve to do something – lunch or movies or sparring or whatever – and Bucky would conveniently head down to Stark's workshop. He didn't even need to use his arm as an excuse anymore, because Steve had come right out and asked him after the first few times and Bucky had told him, all honest, that he liked sitting there and watching Stark work. It was quiet and calming, and let him focus on things without having to actually do shit if he didn't want to. 

He'd even started thinking about doing shit, if he wanted. He'd always liked watching the men working when he was a boy – working with their hands on the wagons or cars or whatever anybody brought by to get fixed. He'd found himself looking around at all the discarded crap in Stark's workshop and wondering if he'd mind if Bucky messed around with the stuff he wasn't going to use. 

He had a feeling Steve had a talk with Stark about it, because the day after Bucky had mentioned it, in response to Steve's looking all worried about him just sitting and staring into space and not moving (that stupid _face_ ), he'd come down to find a corner of the workshop all cleared out. There was a big bin of what looked like the discarded junk Bucky had been eyeing, sitting on the floor under a cleared off worktable, and the shelves behind the table were mostly empty except for a couple of tools Bucky recognised and a couple more he didn't.

"Didn't know what you'd want, just let JARVIS know, he'll get it ordered in," Stark had waved him over towards it, barely even looking up from a sheet of circuitboard he was soldering on. "Feel free to just keep the stool, but, you know, we have chairs in this century that are pretty comfortable, and mini fridges and whatever."

Bucky had taken his stool over and discovered that he could still watch Stark working just fine, and soon enough the newly-cleared space had enticed the robots over to investigate. Bucky had ended up trying to have a staredown with one of them, even though the thing didn't have any kind of eyes. As far as he could tell. 

That would have been that, Bucky thought, except for how after a couple of weeks, a regular, non-holographic screen showed up at Stark's desk, looking like just a regular screen except for how it was set at an angle that didn't immediately make any sense. It didn't take long to realise that it was at the perfect angle so Stark could see him without turning around or being too obvious. At first Bucky figured it was just so Stark could keep an eye on him – there were days Bucky didn't trust himself, so why should anybody else? But after awhile Bucky noticed that sometimes Stark was just _looking_ at him, the exact same way Bucky had been sitting and watching Stark work.

Except Bucky wasn't usually doing anything interesting, like re-designing circuits or inventing shit or playing with light beams and tiny explode-y things and pretending it was science. All Bucky was doing was hanging out and tinkering with whatever shit he got out of the scrap pile – and he'd noticed when the "scrap pile" started having actual stuff in it that was brand-new bits and pieces perfectly suited for the maybe-gonna-be-a-flying-robot Bucky was working on. He'd noticed how the shelves in his corner were mysteriously acquiring new tools, more than the few he'd asked JARVIS to order for him. Bucky noticed, and he noticed Stark watching him and he noticed that sometimes Stark had a look on his face that didn't make any sense whatsoever.

Well. It kind of did make sense if everybody on the entire planet was crazy, but Bucky didn't know if that was the case or if too many re-freezes had destroyed the brain cells responsible for common sense. So he did the only thing that seemed reasonable to figure out what was going on: he stole a six-pack of beer and asked JARVIS to order a couple of pizzas, then broke into Clint's room where Clint was still asleep at eleven thirty in the morning.

He sat quietly at the foot of the bed until Clint woke up, then waited patiently while Clint rolled over, screamed, fell onto the floor, and picked himself up all while glaring at him.

"Some highly-trained assassin you are," Bucky said, cracking open a can of beer and drinking it in front of Clint, who was still glaring at him. 

Clint flipped him off, then signed with one hand about how being snuck up on by Bucky didn't count, it was like being snuck up on by Tasha, and if Bucky didn't hand over an entire pizza then Clint was going to do something something. Bucky tried to remember what that particular set of signs meant, when Clint gestured at his face and frowned at him super-judgmentally.

"Ah. Or you'll tell on me to Steve. Got it." Bucky handed over the box with the ham and pineapple and kept the spicy chicken bacon avocado for himself.

Clint pushed himself up to lean against the headboard, looked at Bucky with half-awake consideration, then blinked slowly as he scanned the immediate area. Bucky watched him look at the beer then around again with a forlorn expression, before finally turning a pair of pathetic puppy-eyes at Bucky.

"Oh, for Christ sake, I'll go make you some fucking coffee," Bucky signed and shoved himself off the bed. Clint just grinned at him and started shoving pizza in his mouth.

It didn't take long to get coffee made and back to Clint in a nice, big cup, then Bucky realised the next step was to ask Clint the question he'd come here to ask, so instead he shoved half a slice of pizza in his mouth. Clint followed suit, apparently perfectly willing to eat pizza and drink his coffee and act like it wasn't at all strange that Bucky had shown up without warning.

Three slices down, however, Clint pushed the box away and gestured a question towards the night table where his hearing aids were. Bucky sighed, then shrugged. "I need the practise," he finally signed, and Clint nodded as he settled in, looking relaxed and fully focused on Bucky, still acting like it wasn't a weird surprise that Bucky was there in the first place.

The problem was that Bucky wasn't really that fluent in ASL, so he couldn't think of how to talk around what he wanted to ask without just coming right out and asking it. But he didn't want to just ask, either, because – well. Because. 

After a few moments of Bucky staring at the bedspread and wondering if he should eat more pizza or if it would make him puke, Clint kicked Bucky's knee with his toe, and when Bucky glanced up, he signed, "Steve or Tony?"

Steve hadn't been a pain in Bucky's ass for weeks, and Bucky had a feeling that maybe everyone knew it. Even Steve seemed to have figured out he'd been driving Bucky nuts and now sometimes he'd be the one telling Bucky that he was going out someplace with Sam, or he'd just not be around for awhile and if Bucky went looking he'd find Steve in his studio, sketching or reading and generally seeming a lot less stressed than he had when he'd been following Bucky around everywhere asking him if he was all right and had he eaten breakfast that day.

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip and raised his hand, getting as far as 'T' and not even getting to add the 'flying robot' bit that Clint had shown him – Tony was insufferably proud of his namesign, and just laughed at how Clint kept threatening to change it to 'evil goatee man.' But Clint jumped in with "So what's Tony done?" before Bucky could even finish saying his name.

"I don't know," Bucky confessed and he didn't think Clint was going to just let that go, but he seriously had no idea what he was doing down here. What did he want to do, ask Clint to go ask Tasha to ask Tony if he liked Bucky?

Christ, was that really what he wanted to ask?

He realised Clint was staring at him, remarkably patient. That actually made it a little easier to ask, "Do you have any idea why he keeps looking at me?"

Clint's eyebrows shot up, and the way he gaped at him was not in the slightest bit encouraging. Bucky started to say, "Never mind," and he was going to just take his pizza and go hide in the back of the closet for a year, when Clint shot forward and laid his hand on Bucky's wrist. 

After a second Clint settled back and was clearly forcing himself to stay composed as he asked, "How is he looking at you? Like, do we need to have Steve – no, wait, that'll end in burning buildings. Have Sam or Bruce talk to him?"

Bucky shook his head fast, because dear God no he didn't want Steve or Sam or anybody else involved. But he'd already involved Clint, which meant no matter what else happened, everybody in the Tower was going to know about this by the end of the day. 

"He's just watching," Bucky said, and he didn't know if he wanted to try to explain in his clumsy sign skills or if looking up the signs on his phone would help. JARVIS had installed an app for him to help him learn ASL, and sure the guy in the videos was cute and you could probably sign anything you could say out loud but did he want to confess to his phone that all he wanted to know was did a guy like him.

Bucky buried his face in his hands and moaned. 

He felt Clint tap him lightly on his real arm, light and careful like he didn't want to startle him, but when he looked up the expression on Clint's face was about half a second away from mocking him.

"Do you mean, is Tony watching me the way I watch him while he works, especially when he's wearing just an A-shirt and his biceps are covered in sweat and grease--"

Bucky shoved Clint's hands down, then decided to hell with it and turned it into a full-on tackle.

Clint cackled. "You do!" he screamed out loud. "Oh my God, JARVIS, call Tasha and tell her--"

Bucky got his hand over Clint's mouth and shoved him over into the bedclothes. He could smother Clint and hide the body before even Natasha could get up here to rescue him. The feeling of sopping wet denim let him know he'd knocked over a beer can onto Clint's bed, but fuck him, he deserved it, especially with the way he was still cackling even as Bucky tried to cut off his oxygen supply.

Clint made an effort to knock Bucky off – half-hearted, there was at least one gun and two arrows within Clint's reach and he hadn't gone for either of them, so clearly Clint knew he deserved to get suffocated. But Bucky kept trying to cram Clint's face into the mattress, and Clint punched him a couple times, then they fell sideways off the bed and Bucky switched to trying to choke him.

Clint wrestled a hand free and signed something at him that Bucky didn't recognise. He paused – didn't let go of Clint's throat, but he tried to remember if he'd seen that sign before. Clint signed it again, one-handed, and he tried to wriggle his other fingers to indicate he could do better if he had both hands free.

Bucky glared at him. "I'm not the one who's deaf. You can talk perfectly well and we both know it, asshole."

"Yes, Tony stares at you and the way you walk out of the room in your skinny denim jeans and he really likes that tight blue t-shirt you wear sometimes and one morning at breakfast we were all wondering if he was going to walk into the wall because you had on those pajama pants and nothing else and they were kinda slipping down past your hipbones." Clint leered at him. 

Letting go, Bucky sat back on his heels not minding that he still had Clint trapped on the floor. For his part, Clint just lay there, relaxed – he did reach over and tried to grab some of the pizza that had also fallen to the floor, toppings-side down. Bucky wrinkled his nose. "Don't eat that, Barton. You're worse than Dummy."

"I think that could be a compliment of some kind," Clint said and he gave up trying to grab the slice which was just barely out of his reach. "But seriously, yes, man, go tap that. Or bone that. Or – what are kids saying these days?"

"How the fuck would I know?" Bucky rolled off him, and leaned back against the bed. Strangely, it didn't really help, knowing that Stark was looking at him. Looking back. Clint sat up beside him and nudged him with his elbow.

"So, is that a problem?" he asked, modulating his tone carefully. Bucky banged at his hand because he really did need to practise and Clint did have some trouble knowing how loud he was when he didn't have his hearing aids in. Clint shifted towards him and signed the question again.

"I got the impression Tony Stark wasn't exactly timid when it came to banging people," he said carefully, getting a couple of signs wrong and letting Clint correct him. "So why doesn't he just ask?"

Clint smiled – and it wasn't the laughing, mocking, telling Natasha every embarrassing thing smile. "Two options," he said. "One, Tony thinks you and Steve are deeply and forever in love--"

"What the fuck?" Bucky shouted. Then he signed, "Everybody and his grandma's dog knows Steve and Wilson are banging like bunnies. Stark nearly walked into them in the hallway, once, and Steve's hand was half down Wilson's pants!"

"Was Tony's head down over a phone or tablet?" Clint asked. Bucky thought back, and – yeah. He nodded. Clint made a there-you-go gesture. "Then Tony has no idea. Or he knows perfectly well and it's option number two."

"What's option number two?" Bucky scowled at him. He sort of wished he'd learned the trick of Steve's stare of disapproval, but he had a feeling it had more to do with that stupid serum making him so big and perfect, rather than any actual morals the lug supposedly had. His morals didn't extend to warning his best friend from childhood not to wander in to brush his teeth in the morning because he was sharing a shower with his boyfriend, Bucky would like to point out.

Clint gave him a real, serious look that kind of scared him a little, and said, "Option number two is that Tony is scared to say anything because he doesn't want to bang you."

Bucky frowned – but no, there'd been a couple signs in there he didn't recognise. He signed back, "Doesn't want to bang me?"

Clint repeated the signs and said out loud, "Doesn't just want to bang you. He wants to date you, and bang you, and stare into your eyes when you rant about how coffee doesn't need seventeen fucking flavors and be turned into dessert."

"It's fucking _coffee,_ " Bucky snarled, just as Clint signed the same thing back at him. He smacked Clint's hands and Clint grinned. "If you're not drinking it black then why the fuck are you wasting-- all right, all right," he rolled his eyes because Clint was echoing his rant in sign and Bucky hadn't actually come here to get mocked this much.

It was still better than having this conversation with Steve, Jesus. Mocking was better than quiet and earnest and do you want me to talk to him for you.

Then what Clint was saying hit him, and Bucky felt his spine stiffen. "Wait, what the fuck, what the fuck do you mean--"

"Tony's got a lot of good reasons to be gunshy," Clint said. "Whether or not he thinks you and Steve might be together, he might not be willing to make the first move in case you're gonna say no. The two of you are friends," he added. "Tony doesn't tend to think he has many of those."

Bucky sighed. "So what the fuck do I do now?"

Clint nudged him and made signs for – it was either a type of pizza Bucky had never heard of, or a sex position Bucky didn't want to know about. Then Clint said, "Make the first move."

"I should have gone to Natasha," Bucky sighed.

She probably would have just thrown knives at him before he got in the door, then he could have avoided the entire conversation completely.

~~~

It turned out that making the first move was fucking hard. Bucky spent four days hanging out in Stark's workshop – Tony's workshop, he told himself he could at least start by calling the guy Tony instead of Stark. Four days later he couldn't figure out how you were supposed to just walk up and ask a guy out.

It used to be so easy: you just smiled and flattered a dame and when she was laughing you asked her if she wanted to go dancing. If she was gonna say no she'd never let you get to the laughing part, and going dancing with a girl wasn't anything like asking somebody out that you wanted to do more than go dancing with.

So he figured he couldn't blame Tony for not speaking up, because this shit was intimidating. He tried to focus on the robot he as tinkering on – he'd called up some specs and decided to make it a tiny flying robot, big enough to carry a little weight and able to, maybe, hand it off or drop it. Blueprints had started "mysteriously" showing up on his tablet, with links to articles and chapters of textbooks that just happened to cover the parts of robot building and flying that he needed to learn.

It would be easier to just ask-- Bucky felt like smacking himself on the forehead, then he glanced over at Tony's desk where the man was bent over something, flicking his fingers back and forth over whatever it was he was doing, and yeah, there was the flat screen angled so Tony could look over and see Bucky while he worked.

Bucky sighed for effect, then had to do it again because Tony wasn't paying any attention, then cleared his throat and said, "Hey, St- Tony?"

Tony's head flew up and he blinked, confused and looking fucking adorable. 

Bucky gestured at the mess on his table. "Could you maybe give me a hand?"

"Sure," Tony was on his feet instantly, coming over and looking at Bucky's little robot. "What's the trouble?"

It was maybe a good thing he really was having some trouble, because he realised Tony was probably genius enough to see right through a fake problem. "So, I can make the doors open and drop stuff, but it's all or nothing – I want to be able to drop things one at a time."

Tony blinked. "Drop what things?"

Bucky shook his head. "I haven't figured out exactly what, yet. Ball bearings are gonna hurt and ping pong balls don't weigh enough. Maybe golf balls? I've been trying to look online, but it isn't like anybody's got suggestions for what to drop on Captain America's head from a decent height that'll annoy him but not actually hurt him or actually get him angry."

For a long moment Tony just stared at him. Then he broke into the widest, most delighted grin Bucky had ever seen. "You're building a robot expressly for the purpose of annoying Steve?"

Bucky smiled back. "Seemed like a good goal."

"Seems like a goal that will get you--" Tony stopped, and looked down at the robot, glancing sidelong at Bucky. "That won't get you sleeping on the couch?"

Bucky remembered what Clint had said – what else he'd said, every single time he saw Bucky and Bucky still hadn't made a move. Advice, suggestions, making hand gestures worthy of porn flicks. "Tony, you know that Steve and I are not and never have been romantically involved? Steve and Sam are together and I am currently single."

Small words, Clint had said. Be direct, factual, and as unsubtle as humanly possible. Engineers, he'd said, don't use words the same way normal people do.

Tony was staring at him now, blinking a couple times and tilting his head. Bucky waited, then started to wonder if maybe Clint hadn't been fucking with him and Tony wasn't interested, oh fuck him, Bucky was going to kill him for real--

"Is that...information I should have?" Tony asked, and the way he wasn't quite able to meet Bucky's eyes told him everything.

"Depends on whether or not you want me to stay single, I guess." He gave Tony one of his best charming smiles and, holy cow, the way Tony's face sort of froze in shocked delight was awesome. Tight blue t-shirt and old pajama pants that were losing the elastic, right. He could totally do this.

"I suppose...I could do something with the information," Tony finally said, then he poked the innards of Bucky's robot. "But you should use clay, or play-doh – something that will lose shape when it makes contact so the force isn't concentrated on one point but gets spread out over a larger surface area, thus reducing the impact--"

Tony kept talking, and he pulled up a stool and sat beside Bucky and Bucky didn't understand half of what he said, but it turned out not to matter. Working together, it took them only one more day to finish Bucky's robot and test it out, then a shipment of neon-colored play-doh arrived and Tony declared it was time for a trial run.

Steve chased them down with his shield and they ended up hiding in the garage behind one of Tony's sports cars, but that was all right because it was a perfect place to kiss for the first time, and laughing together and running away from Steve made for a pretty perfect first date.

Two days later a tiny, flying metal bird swooped into Tony's workshop and dropped something slimy on Bucky's head.


End file.
